Hoodsman: Popes and Emperors

by Smith, Skye

  "So just food and supplies. No fighting," she asked, now close to tears of relief, but still flushed from her temper.

  "That is all that I have heard, but we will soon know the whole of it. If we are to take them supplies then the call must first go out to gather the supplies. Our galleys can be fully loaded with food so long as they do not carry warriors and weapons as well. Alexius must have a huge army crossing the Illyrian mountains, so he will need the food more than our men.” He was guessing of course, but a thinking man's guess. Besides, the guess would calm this woman, and then she could tell it to the other women, and spread the calm.

  He hugged her tight in his arms while he looked over her head and out the window behind her. The women of the island were gathering in the courtyard for a gossip. The news that a Byzantine galley had arrived would have raced through the city. The gossip would be the speculations of why. He saw first one blonde head tower above the women, and then two more.

  "Come love. We must tell what we know to the others," he whispered and then turned her towards the door. She could quell the fears of her women, while he pulled his English crew aside for a frank discussion.

  The women almost mobbed Maria as she stepped out into the courtyard. This meant that the only four able bodied men on this island could talk without being heard. Raynar told them what he knew, and then told him what he thought.

  "Well, we are all citizens now," muttered Flint, "so if the Doxe calls us up as galley crew, we must not say no."

  "Of course we will be called up," hissed Ned, "How many other men do you see on this island, on any of these islands? Certainly no one big enough or fit enough to haul oars. The city is being run by old men and boys and servants until the men return from trading. The men of this clan are guarding ox carts through the Alps from Regensburg, and you know how fast they move. They'll be lucky to make it back before snow blocks the passes."

  "We have no choice but to go with the fleet," said Raynar quietly. "We have to tell a bunch of Englishmen in Alexius's army that Canute is getting ready to invade the Danelaw. Most were lords of the Danelaw. This is their chance to get their estates and their villages back. Not only that, but we must tell them that they have drawing rights on coin in Venice with which to pay their way back to Flanders."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Popes and Emperors by Skye Smith

  Chapter 16 - Waiting for Alexius in Patok, Illyria in October 1081

  The lagoon at Patok, north of Dyrrhachium, was the perfect place for the Venetian fleet, now loaded with food, to wait for the arrival of the Byzantine army. Dyrrhachium was just around the rugged point to the south of the lagoon. The point was the sea end of a high spine of a ridge that separated the coastal plain that Dyrrhachium was built on, from this other valley. This was the Lezha valley, and its coastal plain ran north to the small fortress and trading town Lezhe, but inland this valley ran behind and parallel to the valley that Dyrrhachium was built in.

  Yes, there were Normans on the beach, looking at them, but so what. The Normans still had no ships, and whatever small boats they had would not put to sea with Venetian galleys so close. They could wait here for weeks if necessary, until Emperor Alexius had driven Guiscard and his Normans into the sea.

  A river with a good flow came into the sea just north of the lagoon, so there was plenty of water for the animals they carried. Most of the meat they were carrying was still alive, beef and mutton on the hoof. Even the fish they carried were swimming, well sort of swimming, in barrels of sea water.

  The four Englishmen were on the flagship, which purposefully did not have the Doxe on board. Without the Doxe on board there was no one with the authority to commit the men of these ships to make a landing and fight alongside the Byzantine army. If that is what Alexius wanted of them, then a ship would have to be sent to the Doxe in Venice for permission. Raynar looked up to the heavens and sent a thanks to the Doxe for the subtlety of this strategy.

  A Venetian scout, or rather, a local who had worked with the Venetians before, was drawing a map for the group of captains who had gathered on the flagship. His words were in terrible Greek, but understandable. He took the chalk and shaded in the squiggles on the map that represented the rugged point and the ridge of land that separated this lagoon from the siege of Dyrrhachium, which was now in its seventh month.

  The scout explained, "At this time of year, before the rains, the ridge is a desolate place with no water. Well there is one spring, but you would need a local shepherd to guide you to it, because they hide it from strangers." He stabbed the chalk at a place inland from the fortress. "At this point there is a pass through the ridge, and the highway to Salonika uses that pass. There is another pass further south, but the road there is just a cartway."

  From the roughly sketched chalk map Raynar gathered that the valley that ended in this lagoon went inland on one side of the ridge all the way to the pass. That was probably where all the Normans on the beach were coming from. Any army sent to relieve the siege and fight the Normans would first have to take control of that pass. That meant that some of the first Byzantine warriors sent forward would climb the ridges on both sides of the pass.

  "So Captain," Raynar spoke to the fleet commander, "may I borrow this scout to guide us along that ridge. There will be no Normans on the higher trails along it, and so we can use it to reach the pass and scout what is happening."

  All of the captains were pleased to have a willing volunteer for such a dangerous and necessary mission. It was imperative that they make contact with the scouts of the Byzantine army as soon as possible. The four Englishmen had spoken at length as how they were the best men for the job because they were trained skirmishers, and because the pilgrim clothing and crook staffs that they had brought with them, would disguise them as local shepherds. In truth, all they needed to say to be given the mission, was that they were willing to go.

  The local had to be offered silver coins, and a promise of double the coins on his return, to be their guide along the ridge. He was put in charge of the route and the preparations to leave. It was his call that they be dropped by a small boat halfway along where the ridge of hills jutted out into the sea as a rugged point of land. It was his call that they do this before first light, so that any Normans on the shore would not see them being dropped off.

  It was his call that once dropped on the point, they immediately began climbing up to the top of the ridge. He wanted to get all of the climbing done in the cool of the October morning, on this, the shadow side of the point, before the sun rose higher and gave them away to the Normans below, or gave them a thirst that would finish off their waterskins.

  Most of the weight they were carrying was waterskins. The water in them tasted of wine because the skins were actually wine skins, and the water had been mixed with wine to purify it. They reached the top of the ridge before there was any sun on their side of it, but when they looked carefully over the top to the south facing side of the ridge, they saw that the south face was as parched as a desert.

  Just like the ridges in the Peaks of Derbyshire, this ridge had a path on the top of the ridge, and then two other paths, one on each side, just down from the top. As in the Peaks, the shepherds that wandered the ridges would choose which of the three paths to use depending on the season, the sun, and the wind. There was a slight difference, which said volumes. In the Peaks you would naturally choose the sunny side, while here in the south you would naturally choose the shady side.

  The guide led them along the shady side and warned them to be careful not to create a moving feature along the skyline. The four Englishmen snickered to each other about the redundancy of saying this to seasoned skirmishers, but they said nothing to the guide. It was a reasonable caution.

  Occasionally they would peer over the ridge to see how close they were to the fortress. About halfway along the ridge, halfway between the point of land near to the fleet, and the pass that they were making for, they had a magn
ificent view of sea and coastal plain, and walled city, and massive Norman camp. They could just make out the siege towers that the Normans were building to push up against the high stone walls of the fortress. They could also just make out the charred wreckage that could be nothing other than the last lot of siege towers that they had built.

  There were some sheep grazing beneath them on the shady side of the ridge, and below the sheep there was a tiny meadow that was green. The only green to be seen anywhere on this ridge. The guide nodded at it. "That is the shepherd's spring. Be cautious if you use it because the shepherds have been known to beat men who use it without their permission. They are a bit mad in the head, you know. There is an ancient cave there where the spring comes out of the hillside. To them it is holy."

  He was just telling them this when a wild looking man popped up from behind a large boulder and began yelling at them. The shepherd was definitely acting mad, shaking his fist at them and then bending over and lifting his homespun tunic to shake his ass at them.

  "What is he saying?" Buck asked. As youths all of them had worked as shepherds, just as Raynar had. Anyone who had once spent months in lonely places with no one to talk to but sheep, had a soft spot in their hearts for other shepherds. Raynar translated Buck's question into Greek and asked it of the guide.

  "He says," replied the guide, searching his mind for the translation, "that he has shit in the spring to foul it so that we cannot drink from it without getting sick. He says he has every sickness known to the gods, and we will get them too if we drink from his spring."

  Once Buck heard the translation he laughed aloud and told them, "I would have said the same thing in his shoes.” He waved at the shepherd, whose response was to twirl his loaded sling around his head threateningly. This caused them all to wave as they began walking away along the ridge.

  Hours later, at the last high point of the ridge before it descended steeply into the pass, the men made a camp out of the wind and out of sight in a small bowl of land between some large boulders. It must have been used for centuries as an over night camp or as a watch place, but there was no sign of any recent use. There was even a carpet of dry moss that made a comfortable place to lie, cushioned from the stones.

  They would wait here until they saw the advance scouts of the Byzantine army. They had all expected for places such as this to contain Norman watchers, but there was no sign of any, not here and not below them, and not in the pass itself. By following their eyes east along the highway, they could see it cross this inland valley and then disappear into another pass through a lower ridge on the inland side of the valley.

  Perhaps the Normans had watchers and guards in that other pass. That would explain why there were none on this one. Further east, beyond the next low ridge, well beyond, they could see mountains in the haze. Just before sunset, they saw the Norman cavalry that had been watching the Venetian ships from the shore. They came along the inner valley that lead to the lagoon and the ships, and turned through this pass towards the coastal plain and the Norman camp.

  * * * * *

  The guide felt a kick to his leg and he woke from the light sleep of a skirmisher without making a sound. Flint had kicked him and in the first light of the day he could just make out the hand signal to use his senses. He froze in place and held his breath and listened. There it was. A dove call. A soft call that not only meant that they should arm themselves, but soft because danger was close by.

  While still sitting, the guide used his arms to push himself backwards so that his back was to a large boulder so that he could not be ambushed from behind. He had his short sword in his hand, the sword that, as a boy he had found in a ruin of the ancient Romans. The man called Buck was on watch, and it was he who was making strange bird noises. These other three men were stringing their carved shepherds crooks and pulling arrows from their bedrolls. What else would you expect of cunning Venetians.

  The three men now also put their backs to boulders, but they were standing so that they could use their big bows, and they had arrows half drawn and their eyes were searching the early morning shadows for movement. The bird calls had stopped. Was that a good sign or a bad sign.

  Buck, the fourth man, crawled into the natural bowl, staying low and he signaled to his three friends with sign language. Whatever else the signs meant, the signs meant trouble.

  Raynar signaled Buck to come to him and tell him what was happening. Buck's words were barely a breath. "A squad of men climbing the ridge up the east slope. It is still too dark to see down into the pass. They did not look like professional army. They were small and wiry with dark skins. Perhaps locals. Yes, that is the feeling in my gut. They are locals."

  Raynar crept closer to the guide, and asked him to call out as if he was a ridge shepherd calling to other shepherds. The guide looked at him with fear in his face, but he did as he was told. He called out over and over again, in a hushed call that would not travel far, but would be heard anywhere around these boulders.

  A call came back from the darkness, equally hushed. The guide translated it to Raynar, "They are locals, working as guides for foreigners."

  "Find out which foreigners."

  There was more calling back and forth. "They want to know who we are first."

  "Tell them we are local shepherds and then ask who they are."

  More calling. "He wishes to come and see. Just the local."

  "Tell him to come, but everyone else must stay away."

  More calling. "He is coming."

  A man came carefully into the bowl with his hands held out so they could see that there was nothing in them. The stranger could have been their guide's cousin. He looked around at the tall blonde men dressed something like shepherds and he said in Greek. "Good, then you are not Normans. The men with me are scouts of the Byzantine army. They will not allow you to leave this hollow until later today, but if you do not try to leave then they will not harm you."

  "Call their leader to come and talk," Raynar said softly. "If he is Byzantine then we will welcome him, and do as he says."

  Moments later a young man arrived wearing a homespun cloak, but there was a glint of armoured leathers when it swung open as he stumbled a bit coming into hollow. "I am John Doukas, Captain of the scouts for his supreme highness Alexius Comnenus. Who are you, and do not tell me that you are shepherds."

  "I am Captain Raynar, Citizen of Venice and I bring greetings and other information for your Emperor from the Venetian fleet at the end of this ridge."

  "Excellent," replied John, "Were you on this ridge before sunset? Were you alone, or were there Norman watchers or scouts around you?"

  "There is no one but us, unless you count a crazy shepherd about half way to the ships along this ridge path."

  "Excellent. We are here to make sure of just that. I will leave my patrol in this hollow, and you will come with me to the Emperor."

  Raynar served as translator to his men. Bows were eased, bedrolls were packed, water skins were hung over shoulders, and they set out following Captain Doukas.

  What they saw as soon as they left the security of the bowl and the boulders, unnerved them. There were thirty bowmen, carrying strangely shaped bows, with knocked arrows that were long and made from thin wands. Not one of them looked Greek. They were not nearly as tall as six feet, and dark skinned and looked strong and wiry. Their hair was black, and their eyes so black that Raynar could not read them.

  "These men are Seljuk skirmishers and archers, but on this campaign they are on our side."

  "Seljuks," Raynar said as he took in the sandals, and clothes, and hats that these dark men wore. "But aren't you fighting the Seljuks on your eastern borders?"

  "Their leader, Sultan Suleiman of Rûm, has promised peace in Anatolia while Alexius kills all of these Normans. He even sent seven thousand of his skirmishers with Alexius as a sign of good faith, for a price of course."

  "Seven thousand," Raynar was in awe, "You come with seven thousand archers. Then the Norman
s are but dead men walking."

  "Perhaps," replied Doukas, "we will see. They were not allowed to bring their horses, so they say that they cannot fight well. You see their small bows. Those are recurved bows, especially designed for shooting from horseback."

  Doukas introduced them to the captain of the skirmishers, Ahmad Khan, the tallest of them, who had a scar on his face from one eye down to his chin. He was a mean looking bugger, but he gave them a smile of big white teeth when he noticed their strange crook-bows and the length of their arrows.

  "Come, it is getting light. The news up here is all good. No Norman watchers, so I can go down and make my report. Follow me.” He had to turn and tell his local guide to stay with the Seljuks. The guide looked at the dark skinned skirmishers and was not happy. "You will be fine," Doukas calmed him. "The Seljuk captain speaks some Greek."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Popes and Emperors by Skye Smith

  Chapter 17 - Meeting an Emperor near Dyrrhachium in October 1081

  The four Englishmen could not have chosen a better connected man than John Doukas to help them to reach the Emperor with their message from the Venetian fleet. Doukas was a nephew of the Emperor, and walked right up to the group of generals, who were the only men mounted on horses.

  Doukas reported first, telling the generals that the pass was not defended, and as far as he knew, the Byzantine army was not expected by the Normans. Raynar grimaced when he heard this pronouncement. How could anyone believe that an army of tens of thousands of men could surprise another army. But he held his peace, because back in '66 in his very first battle at Stamford in Yorkshire, that is exactly what had happened. King Harold of the English leading an army of five thousand had completely surprised the army of King Harald of the Norse.